


David Rose and Patrick Brewer in: The Great Blouse Barn Caper

by midnightstreet



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breaking and Entering, Coming In Pants, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightstreet/pseuds/midnightstreet
Summary: Two drunk, horny idiots stumble around Elmdale...and stumble onto an opportunity for some much-needed privacy.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 24
Kudos: 114
Collections: Nothing Desperate About It





	David Rose and Patrick Brewer in: The Great Blouse Barn Caper

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the [Nothing Desperate About It](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/nothingdesperateaboutit/profile) collection, set between Grad Night and Housewarming, which celebrates moments where David and Patrick managed to sneak in short moments of privacy (and possibly take advantage of said privacy). Each work in the collection represents a different location.
> 
> This takes place around 4.05 RIP Moira Rose.
> 
> Eternal gratitude to EggplantSalad, Elswherefumbling, and spiffymittens. Many thanks also to dazedwriter for organizing this little fest!

“The thing is...the thing is…”

“The thing?” Patrick queried as he studied his own thumb. Thumbs were weird.

“Thing? Oh, right. _Parking meters!_ Like. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why what, _what_? Hey, slow down!”

Patrick came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk outside...a law office, maybe? No, a funeral home. Man, that was depressing. When was the last time he’d been to a funeral? Why were there always so many flowers?

David’s sweater had flowers on it. It was a really nice sweater. There were _pecs_ under that sweater.

Something heavy hit Patrick’s back, causing him to stumble forward slightly. “Ouch! Okay, if you knock me over, I may not be able to get up again. Maybe we should take a breather.”

They made their way over to the concrete steps that led up to the depressing building, each taking a seat on one side of the handrail in the center. While Patrick sat successfully on the first try, David swung on the railing like a baby monkey that had yet to fully grow into its limbs, before landing with an _oof_.

It was such a nice night. A little humid, maybe, but pleasantly warm for early October. And quiet here, too, just far enough away from the Friday night crowds tumbling in and out of the bars and restaurants. Between the two of them, they polished off Patrick’s bottle of water.

“So what was that? About parking meters?” Patrick glanced back down Elmdale’s main drag and saw that there were many shiny meters lining the street.

“I...oh! Right! I ran into a parking meter!”

“What? When?”

“Just now! I was staring at your ass and sort of...sideswiped one. Didn’t you hear me curse and kick it and curse again?” David flailed his hands toward the offending sidewalk hazards.

“I honestly have no idea how I missed that. Might have something to do with how drunk we are.”

“Excuse me, I am not drunk. Drunk was Stevie after that time she walked in on Roland changing and drank three bottles of wine to deal with her trauma. I am willing to deem myself tipsy at worst. Tipsy is a weird word, right? Tipsy. Tip-seeee. See the tip. I wanna see the tip, Patrick.” He stared shamelessly at Patrick’s crotch.

Patrick stared back at him, raising a non-eyebrow.

“Point taken; drunk it is.”

David stood up and managed to make it down the two steps to the sidewalk so he could come around to Patrick’s side of the railing and cuddle up against him. This was nice. Even with all the artificial light in Elmdale, they could still see plenty of stars. 

Patrick’s next thought was that his head hurt. When he reached back to find out why, hand met step. 

Yeah, okay, concrete steps outside funeral homes did not make for good pillows.

He was about to shake David awake, but when he sat up, he found his boyfriend already conscious and...pawing at Patrick’s crotch?

“Shit. David, okay, no, bad idea, baaaad idea.” He used the handrail to pull himself up. “I can show you the tip later. I know it doesn’t _look_ like there’s anyone around, but—”

Oh. David wasn’t actually trying to get his zipper down. No, he was...digging in Patrick’s pockets?

“Aha!” David declared triumphantly, nearly toppling backward. He was brandishing the keys he had given to Patrick to hold, as his outfit apparently had a ‘line’ he hadn’t been willing to ruin. Patrick’s bulging pockets also contained David’s phone and wallet. It should be against the laws of physics, really, the way these jeans functioned; they were like a TARDIS, but one that, according to David, made his ass look ‘extra juicy’.

“Uh, what’s happening here?”

“Shh!” David hissed. “Look!”

Patrick followed David’s pointing finger across the street and down a line of storefronts until he saw...okay, a vacant building. It was white. It should have had a store in it. Probably.

“Are we moving the Apothecary? I don’t know, David, that place isn’t as nice as ours.” Patrick got tired of looking and rested his temple against the handrail.

“Patrick, that’s.” David dropped his voice to a whisper. “That’s the _Blouse Barn_!”

“No, the Blouse Barn closed. Oww! Stop hitting me!”

“It _used to be_ the Blouse Barn. Oh my god, why is it still empty? I wonder where Wendy went. She was nice, though she dressed like a black widow on the hunt for her next husband at a Walmart. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh! Patrick! Patrick!!” David frantically batted at Patrick’s chest. “Keys! The keys! I never gave my key back; we need to go see if it still works!”

There were several flaws in David’s alcohol-inspired plan. Patrick was still a bit hazy, but he was pretty sure there would be a new lock after...well, this had happened before he met David, and he met David. Umm. Five months ago? Or was it two? Maybe nine. And anyway, the number one issue here was that getting over there would involve _standing_.

And _walking_.

But David was already doing his adorable little run-walk toward the nearest crosswalk (thank god he hadn’t headed straight into the street), and Patrick would follow that ass anywhere.

The storefront was in less than great shape. Patrick kicked at a weed growing through the large crack in the pavement near the front step David had just stumbled over, tilting his head back enough to make himself extra-spinny — time for sitting again! — to examine the huge rip in the awning. He could hear David scratching a key against a lock. Then a jingle: new key. And another. Why did David have so many k—.

_Click._

Patrick jumped up. “David! David, it _worked_!” he whisper-yelled. He plastered himself to David’s back, deciding a thorough groping of his boyfriend’s butt was in order as a reward for such a brilliant feat, then threw in some neck kisses for good measure.

“Okay, off please. This sweater cost more than any hundred garments this place previously sold _put together_. Before I saved it, that is.”

“But didn’t it close?” Patrick asked, confused.

David spun around and fixed him with a glare. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“God you’re sexy. I want to do so many things to you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck.

“Umm. Things?” Patrick had to close his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by an onslaught of images. A filthy, filthy PowerPoint presentation in his brain. “Want you in my mouth. Haven’t done anything in so long, baby.” He licked up David’s jawline, then planted little kisses on the way back down. “God, you taste good. Please, can I?”

David looked over his shoulder to the right, then to the left. “Umm. Maybe…”

“Back there? Yeah, c’mon, let’s do it.”

“You’re so horny, my goodness!”

“Baby, I haven’t gotten my mouth on you without worrying someone was going to walk in on us in like… _months_. Or days. Maybe?” Patrick ran his hands up and down David’s chest, pausing to rub at his best guess for where David’s nipples were. (Stupid layers. Stupid darkness.) “ _Days_ , David. It’s torture. We never have any privacy.” He actually stomped his foot. When had he turned into such a lightweight? He was supposed to be the reasonable one, here.

David tilted his mouth, biting down on the side of his lip. “Well, I suppose Rides By Ray will be running for a little while yet…”

“Yeah, you’re totally gonna let me get to third base. C’mon.”

“Eww, no, not that way! It probably still smells like feet in there. This way.” 

‘This way’ turned out to be a small office-slash-stockroom. But unlike the one at their store, there were no worries about demanding customers bursting in on them, no Roland tapping on the glass, no Stevie using her key after-hours. Sure, it was dark, and it smelled kind of stale, but David — with all of his _Davidness_ — was here, and they were _alone_.

After a few false starts, David sat on the desk and Patrick stepped between his knees. It was just the right height that, for once, Patrick was the taller one.

“Mm, yeah,” David moaned into their sloppy kiss, “want you so bad.” They broke apart, panting. “You gonna suck me? I’m so hard for you, honey. Need it so bad, and you look like you’re gagging for it.”

Patrick had just enough coordination left to drop to his knees. Fortunately, the alcohol numbed the pain of landing on the linoleum from just a bit too much height. Thank god David wasn’t wearing one of his more complicated garments tonight; Patrick was able to wrestle the placket of his pants open in no time, shameless in his thirst for David’s big dick, the one he’d been practicing for weeks to take completely. He wasn’t even willing to wait long enough to get things fully out of the way, pulling David’s cock out through the slit in his underwear and swallowing him down while the zipper dug uncomfortably into Patrick’s chin. 

It produced the desired result: David grabbed at what little of Patrick’s hair there was to hold on to, shoving Patrick’s face into his crotch with the carelessness that only came under the influence of alcohol. Patrick loved it, though; loved breathing in the sweat and musk at the base of David’s cock; loved being able to show off how far his skills had come. He was drooling like crazy, not caring that his spit was dripping down his chin as he bobbed up and down on that beautiful length, the one that filled him up so perfectly.

Apparently, with enough alcohol, he could kill his gag reflex. What a wonderful discovery.

Patrick’s head swam until he forgot where he was. The whole world dropped away, fading into the background behind the sensations that had taken over his brain: the slide of a cock down his throat, the brush of pubic hair against his nose, the smell of _man_ all around him.

He hadn’t even been paying attention to David’s reactions, unable to focus enough to gauge the feedback he was getting. It was animal instinct so pure that Patrick hadn’t even realized he’d been humping the leg of the desk the whole time, working himself into a frenzy. But apparently these few months had been enough to hone his instinct: before long (he thought, but honestly, he had no idea how much time had passed), David was coming straight down Patrick’s throat with a shout, yanking him to his feet to lick the remnants from his mouth. That sharp tug was it for Patrick: despite the many, many beers floating through his blood, he was just aware enough to feel warm wetness flood his jeans.

_Fuck._

++++++++++

“You know what I just realized?” Patrick’s head lolled against David’s shoulder as they sat with their backs against the desk, legs stretched out in front of them. “This place? It brought you to me. If it hadn’t been for the money Wendy gave you, we might never have met.”

David hummed inquisitively, twining their fingers together.

“I mean, yeah, small town; we would have bumped into each other. But I never would have seen the passion you had for your business, or heard all those voicemails, or watched you work day after day to make your dream a reality. Who knows if we would have fal— if we would have gotten together.”

Patrick held his breath, waiting to see if David had caught the disastrous admission he’d nearly made. David shifted beside him, but said nothing. Finally, he turned and pecked Patrick on the cheek, nuzzling at his temple while Patrick counted to 10, to 100, to 1000.

Eventually they stood up, stumbling back out into the muggy night air. David locked the door while Patrick called Ray, and they sat down together on the step to wait.

David traced nonsense patterns along Patrick’s bare forearm. “I’m really glad we, umm. Got together. Too.” He stared straight down at the crack in the pavement, then, very slowly, looked up to meet Patrick’s eyes.

Oh.

_Oh._

David rested his head against Patrick’s shoulder and looked up at the night sky. “That was a great bar; we should really go there more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos very much appreciated (if you're so inclined)


End file.
